Arthur

SIX

I had never been on a ship before, and discovered sea travel most unnerving and disagreeable. Though the sea remained calm, the ceaseless motion – rising, falling, rolling side to side – made me feel as if I were wine drunk and riding an unbroken colt. The crossing took the whole of one day and most of another, and never was a man more happy to espy those dust-brown hills of Armorica than I.

Gleaming darkly in the ruddy dusk, bold red-grey banks of clouds towered high above and twilight stars already showed overhead. I saw those hills and I felt as if I had spent all my life on that cramped boat and knew land only as a rumoured thing contrived by seafarers. The miracle – Great Light, the relief! – of that landfall brought the mist to my eyes, I tell you.

Merlin bore the journey without difficulty. He talked to the ship's pilot and crew, gleaning all he could from them. In this way he learned how affairs stood in Armorica, so that we should not be surprised at our reception there.

Upon making landfall, Merlin hired a messenger to take word of our arrival to the lord of the realm – a land called Benowyc. We stayed the night in the seaside settlement favoured by the ship's men. The people of this port were friendly and well disposed to serving the needs of travellers. Hence we were well provided with good food and better wine than I had tasted before. They talked freely of the events of Gaul, though considered themselves apart from it – more a part of Britain, as the likeness of our shared tongue confirmed.

I slept well that night – despite the sensation of phantom waves heaving beneath me. As we broke fast next morning, the messenger returned with a token from the lord and a message urging us to come to him at once and receive a proper welcome.

King Ban of Benowyc was kinsman to Hoel, the king who had sheltered Aurelius and Uther from Vortigern when they were young. Hoel it was who had sent a warband to aid Aurelius against the Saecsen war leader Hengist. Thus the name of Merlin was well known to Ban, and to many others.

We mounted our horses – I vowed never to complain of the saddle again – and proceeded at once to Benowyc, where Ban was awaiting us with all eagerness. It was no great distance, and we soon reached our destination: Caer Kadarn, a large, well-kept stronghold on a hill overlooking the sea to the north and west.

'Hail, Merlin Embries!' he called from horseback as he rode out to greet us. 'Long have I desired to meet you.' He leaned from his saddle and gripped my master by the arms in the manner of kinsmen. 'Greetings and glad welcome to you. My hearth is yours for as long as you will stay – and I pray that stay be long.'

My master accepted this greeting graciously. 'Hail, Lord Ban! We have heard of the hospitality and courtesy of the kings of Armorica. Surely you must stand foremost among them to welcome strangers this way.'

This reply pleased Ban enormously. Indeed, the Annpr-icans enjoyed praise and ever sought means to elicit flattering words. 'But you are not strangers, my lord,' Ban said. The name of the great Embries is a name of renown and respect among us. You are merely a friend we have not owned the pleasure of meeting until now.'

As I say, the Armoricans were ever mindful of our good opinion, and eager to secure it. This they accomplished adroitly and without undue effort, so adept were their skills.

We were conducted to Ban's hall, where he had prepared a small meal of welcome: seeded bread, cheese, and a kind of heavy sweet wine. We tasted of these and listened as Ban described the events of the summer, and how he and his brother, Bors, the battlechief of Benowyc, had fought three battles against the Angli and Jutes in Gaul.

'I would like to meet your brother,' Merlin said.

To which Ban replied, 'Fortunate men bring their fortune with them I find. For, indeed, Bors is expected to return here the next day but one. He will want to greet you, too.'

We spent the day talking and riding, for Ban was keen to show us his realm, and to hear us praise it. As it happened, this was no burden to us for Benowyc was a fine and fair place, good to look upon, blessed with wide fields, forests of tall timber, and long, lush hunting runs second to none. Therefore was Ban a wealthy king.

Like many rich men, Ban proved overproud of his possessions, and took pleasure – perhaps too much – in showing them, speaking about them, lauding them and hearing them lauded.

Still, he had the respect of his people, who knew him to be a calm and steady ruler, and generous in his dealings. And whatever else might be said, he had not allowed his fondness for wealth to corrupt his good judgement. He was not one to make another feel abused or cheated.

Bors, on the other hand, was head to heel the warrior: hasty, intemperate, easily incited to arms and action, as fond of boasting as of drinking – and he was a champion of the cups, I can tell you! Nevertheless, he was superbly skilled in battle and in leading men, a ferocious fighter, possessing both the strength and temperament of a charging boar.

But the brothers shared the same love of life and hatred of the barbarian. Ban and Bors could be counted on to aid any who warred against the enemies of order and right. And, with their wealth, this aid could be considerable.

This was why Merlin had come, of course: to tell them of Arthur, and secure their good will and support. As their kinsman Hoel had aided Aurelius, Merlin hoped Ban would aid Arthur.

But there was another reason. It was something Merlin had glimpsed in the black oak water of the Seeing Bowl – an ancient druid object he sometimes employed to search out the tangled pathways of time. He would not say what he had seen, but it disturbed him and he wanted to discover its source.

The second day we were with Ban, the warband returned. A lavish meal – put on as much for our benefit as for the warband's, I believe – had been laid in the hall and we supped well. Bors, expansive in his pleasure at being home, turned to Merlin with a jar of beer in his hand. 'What is this I hear about you, Merlin? They tell me you are a bard. Is this so?'

Bors meant no disrespect, so Merlin suffered his ignorance with good grace. 'My lord," he replied modestly, 'I have been known to stroke the harp now and then. Some find the noise agreeable, I believe.'

Bors grinned and slapped the board with the flat of his hand. 'By Lud, that is a fine thing! The harp, you say? Well, I am your man, Lord Embries.'

'Pledge me no pledges until you have heard me play,' Merlin told him. 'Armorican ears may not find favour in what they hear.'

Bors laughed loudly at this. 'Play then, I say, that I may judge the value of British noise.'

At my master's bidding, I fetched the harp, ready tuned, and brought it to him. And, as was the custom in that land, the women, who had taken their meal elsewhere, now entered the hall to hear the tales sung. They came into the hall and found places at the board with the men, or near the hearth.

As it happened, Ban had a harper in his court, a young man named Rhydderch, whom everyone simply called Rhys: a thin, long-boned youth, unremarkable in aspect except for his eyes, which were large and wonderfully expressive, the colour of wood smoke. We had heard him play the night before.

At the sight of Merlin's harp, Rhys rose from his place at one of the further tables and made his way to the king's board. There he stood a little removed, watching intently as Merlin came to stand before the assembly.

'What would you hear, my lord?' asked my master.

Ban thought for a moment, then replied, 'As this is a friendly gathering, let us hear a tale of friendship and honour.'

Merlin nodded and began strumming the harp. The first notes leapt into the hushed hall, shimmering like silver coins flung from an Otherworldly purse, as Merlin's fingers wove the melody for his words.

The tale Merlin offered was Pwyll, Lord of Annwfn, as fine a tale of honour among friends as any that exist. It was especially fitting that night in Ban's hall, for through it Merlin was claiming friendship on behalf of Arthur, just as Arawn claimed it of Pwyll in the tale.

When he finished, the hall sat rapt, unwilling to desecrate the blessed silence following Merlin's inspired song. Then, as the last notes faded back into Oran Mor, the Great Music, as waves fall back into the gifting sea, we heard a crash. Bors was on his feet, his bench thrown over.

The battlechief climbed upon the board, where he stood gazing down at Merlin in awe and wonder. Bors raised his hands into the air and declared to all gathered in the hall, 'My people, hear me now! May I fall dead upon these stones at once if ever a man has heard such song beneath this roof. I say this noble service shall be rewarded… ' he grinned expansively and added, 'yes, even to the half of my kingdom.'

So saying, Bors jumped to the floor before Merlin and gathered my master in a fierce embrace. He then removed one of his golden armbands and placed it on Merlin's arm, to the delighted approval of all gathered there.

The people cheered and Ban banged his cup on the board, calling for more. But Merlin refused, begging pardon and promising to sing again before leaving. It was not his custom to flaunt his gifts.

After it became clear that there would be no more singing that night, the warriors and their women began drifting off to their various sleeping-places. Ban and Bors bade us good night and left us to our rest.

Upon reaching our chamber, however, we discovered someone waiting for us – Rhys, the young harper. His first words went straight to the matter on his heart. 'Does your lord have many fine harpers?'

'Good night to you, Rhys,' replied Merlin. 'Leave subtlety to the wind and waves, is that it?'

Rhys coloured at his own presumption, but did not back down. 'Forgive the impudence, lord. I speak only as one harper to another. And I would have your answer.'

The arrogance! He considered himself an equal to Merlin!

'Speak your mind, lad,' Merlin told him. 'Such reticence has no place among friends.'

Rhys blinked back witlessly and looked to me for help.

'You are being reminded of your manners,' I told him.

The young man blushed still brighter, but blundered on. 'Guile is most distasteful to me, my lord, I assure you. If that is what you mean.'

'Your directness is refreshing, Rhys. I stand admonished,' Merlin laughed. 'How may I serve you?'

'But I have already said.' He spread his hands helplessly.

'Then hear my answer,' replied Merlin. 'The lord I serve owns merely the cloak on his back and the sword at his side. He is gathering his warband and retinue now, it is true, but there is not a harper among them. It is a luxury he can ill afford.'

Rhys nodded, as if making up his mind. 'Then your Lord Arthur will require someone to sing his victories before the hearth.' The harp in Merlin's hands might have been an oar for all he noticed.

'I trust you will allow my Lord Arthur to content himself with first getting a hearth.'

'All the more reason,' declared Rhys triumphantly. 'How else will his renown increase sufficiently that men will esteem and follow him? Besides, I can wield a sword as well as I play the harp, and I am the best in all Benowyc at that. Ask who you will.'

Then I invite you to come with us, if nothing prevents you,' my master told the young harper. 'However, I think your lord will have a word or two to say in the matter. Indeed, from what I have seen, Bors is himself a lord worthy of his renown. No doubt your art would be far better rewarded here.'

'Lord Bors is indeed a worthy chieftain,' agreed Rhys readily. 'But he has four harpers to sing his praise, and… ' here was the source of his complaint to be sure, 'I am the least among them – in rank, mind, not in skill. They are jealous, and for this reason take no account of me.'

'I see,' Merlin allowed, pulling on his chin. 'Yes, that is a problem. And you think that with Arthur you might fare better. Is that it?'

'For a truth, it is,' Rhys agreed seriously. 'At least, I do not think I could fare much worse.'

'Then, if you are not afraid to ply the sword as well as the harp, I believe you might account yourself well received.'

We left the matter there for the night, and thought no more about it until the next day when, as we took our midday meal, Bors approached. 'God be good to you, my friends,' he called. 'I hope you are finding our simple fare to your liking.'

'You and your brother are most kind and generous. And, yes, the food is to our taste.'

'Good!' cried Bors, as if he had been waiting all day to hear it. 'That is very good.' He settled on the bench beside Merlin and helped himself to the bread and meat in the bowls before us.

'Now then,' he said, tearing the bread between his hands, 'what is this I am hearing about you stealing one of my bards?'

'Rhydderch told you about his plan, did he?'

'Will you take him?' Bors asked amiably.

'It is not for me to say,' Merlin explained. 'The decision will be yours and Arthur's – as I told the boy. Will you let him go?'

Bors chewed thoughtfully for a moment before answering. 'Although I am loath to lose a good harper, I am honour-bound to grant you your reward – '

'I have asked no reward,' protested Merlin quickly.

' – grant your reward for last night's song,' Bors continued. 'Why, half the realm heard the promise from my own mouth!'

'Please, you owe me nothing. I gave as I have been given.'

'Would you have it whispered about that Bors of Benowyc's word is worth less than the air it takes to speak it?' Bors shook his head gravely, but his eyes were merry. 'That would never do.'

'True… ' Merlin agreed slowly.

'So, you shall have Rhys, my Lord Embries,' said Bors, and added shrewdly: 'But I would be less than prudent if I let him go alone.'

'True again. What do you propose?'

'I propose to go with him. To make certain that the boy does not come to harm, you understand.'

'I see,' my master replied. 'By all means, please continue.'

'Of course,' said Bors, as he tossed a bit of meat into his mouth and licked his fingers, 'I could not go alone. As I am a friendly man, I would need my companions with me lest I become lonely.'

'To be sure, sojourning far from home often makes a man lonely.'

'A hundred of my best should suffice, I think. With weapons and horses for all, I should not be lonely then.'

Merlin laughed heartily and commended Bors' thoughtful-ness. Bors enjoyed his jest, but held up his hands, saying, 'You praise me too highly. I assure you, I am only looking to my own comfort in the matter.'

Ban and Bors had guessed why Merlin had come, and were not willing to see him demean himself by begging support which they were only too happy to provide. So, to save him the embarrassment – little did they know my master if they weened he would shrink from any deed in the advancement of Arthur! – the brothers made the offer of men and horses in this way. Nor did Merlin fail to recognize the gesture for what it was. He also acknowledged their prudence: every battle fought against the Saecsens hi Britain was one less to fight on their own soil.

'I tell you, Pelleas,' he said later, 'these men are first in hospitality and honour. Would that Britain's lungs were as well disposed to aiding Arthur.'

One purpose of our journey had been accomplished, and far more quickly than we could have hoped. Of the other purpose Merlin still had said nothing. The next day Ban conducted Merlin on a circuit of his realm, visiting the places deemed most likely to impress a stranger. I stayed behind to hunt with Bors, and we enjoyed long rides and evenings in the hall, good food and better wine, and the best of song.

The curious custom of the women – eating apart and joining the men in the hall for the entertainment – was observed on these occasions. So it was not until the third night that I saw her: a peerless maid, possessed of a rare and exquisite beauty.

She entered with the other women and found a place near the hearth. From the moment that I saw her sitting there – leaning forward slightly to hear the song, hands folded in her lap, eyes bright with joy and anticipation, lips framing a smile that spoke pure delight and a soul in love with life…

Bors saw my lingering glance, laughed, and said, 'Yes, she is beautiful, is she not? Her name is Elaine.'

Elaine! The name stirred within me such feeling that I lost all power of speech.

Elaine…

From the depths of my mind, the memory surfaced: of AvaJlach's four ships to escape the cataclysm that destroyed Atlantis, only three had reached Britain. The last, the fourth, had been lost…

Avallach had lost his son, Kian; and Belyn, my father, had lost his wife and queen: her name had been Elaine. Although my father never spoke about her, I had heard the story of the missing ship many times in his court.

I did not require further confirmation. By her stature, grace and bearing alone, I knew in my heart that the lady before me was of my race. I sat gazing at her, the realization making my head swim: Fair Folk in Armorica!

Could it be?

Bors mistook my stare for fascination, saying, 'You would not be the first man to succumb to the charm of a Faery maid.'

'How came this woman to be in your court?' I asked, my voice harsh in my ears.

That is no mystery. My father's father, King Banw, married one of their kind. Though beautiful, the woman was frail and died without giving him an heir. He took another wife, of course, but always said his heart belonged to his Faery queen. Since Banw's time there have been Faery with us. Elaine is of their race. They are aloof and haughty, it is true, but they are a peaceable folk for all their strangeness, and keep to themselves.'

'Where do they abide?'

'In the forest Broceliande – a goodly distance to the east.' Bors observed me closely, as if regarding me for the first time. He leaned close, as if offering a confidence. 'I have heard it said that Lord Embries is of the Faery. Is this so?'

'So it is said.'

Bors nodded as if that explained much. 'And you?'

'Yes.'

'I thought as much. I mentioned it to Ban, but my brother said it was nonsense.'

'People make more of it than there is,' I assured him. 'The Fair Folk are not so different as many believe.'

He accepted this with a ready laugh. 'There is no end of things people believe. I have heard it said that your people can change shape as you will – become wolves or stags or owls, or whatever.'

Our talk turned gradually to other things, but I thought to myself, Fair Folk here, here in Armorica! Merlin must hear of this!